Childhood Home

Drip,

Drip.

The faucet still leaks to this day.

The water cold and lifeless,

such as the reality of this home,

a home once lived in.

Many bodies buried out back,

of animals long past.

A dog... cat... parakeet,

from a home they once lived in.

Cobwebs line the skylight in the living room,

though they have always been there.

Hanging frustratingly out of arm’s reach,

in a home once lived in.

The miniature statue of the blessed mother remains in the garden,

overgrown with moss and wilting.

Her presence brings back memories,

of a home once lived in.

The decaying swing set still stands,

likely overrun with bees as per usual.

Seemingly covered with leaves year-round,

such as a home once lived in.

The large yard remains untouched,

perfect for baseball in the summer.

And even when a fastball knocked out my front tooth,

I still held a smile,

for it was the home I once lived in.

Oh,

my sweet childhood home.

I really do have fond memories of you.

Though I also remember the crying of my father.

I also remember my trembling hands,

that would have no apparent end.

I remember the sliding door to my bedroom,

it never seemed to stay on its frame.

I remember the hole in the bathroom wall,

stained white from the cover-up.

I remember the sleepless nights,

that I could not seem to escape.

The memories I hold are bittersweet.

My dear childhood home,

please forgive me when I say:

I would not return

to you

any day.

Tristyn Holden ‘24 is a nursing major.